


The Talk

by Saber_Wing



Series: The Ties That Bind [8]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, Assassination Attempt(s), Fluff, Gen, Humor, Injury Recovery, M/M, Romance, Shovel Talk, Smoking, Trevelyan (Dragon Age) has Sibling(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:42:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27689111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saber_Wing/pseuds/Saber_Wing
Summary: “Iron Bull, I presume,” Jax grumbled, tone neutral rather than hostile. Which was something, at least.The Bull, to Max’s simultaneous delight and horror, laughed. “I can see the resemblance.”Max resisted the urge to groan.Bann Trevelyan meets Maxwell's illustrious qunari lover.
Relationships: Male Inquisitor/Iron Bull, The Iron Bull/Male Trevelyan (Dragon Age)
Series: The Ties That Bind [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1254914
Comments: 10
Kudos: 33





	The Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Why, hello there, everyone. It has been a couple of years, hasn't it? Terribly sorry. My muses want what they want. I wrote for another fandom for a year. Good times, but I'm back with more. If you've followed my series, and are here to tune back in, thank you so much, and welcome back! That is dedication. I see you, and I appreciate you. I've been going back through the other installments and cleaning up the prose. Fleshing other things out, and just all in all tweaking it a bit here and there, so it may even be rewarding to sit down for a reread, if you've a mind.
> 
> If you're here for the first time, don't be intimidated. You should be able to follow this with no trouble. Needless to say, if you like it, there are five more! It's your lucky day <3
> 
> So, I don't know about you, but this year has put me through the ringer, and I think most everyone is in the same boat. It has chewed me up, spit me out, and hung me out to dry. I haven't written in...a couple of months? Something like it? I hit a pretty rough patch in my depression, lost one of my cats, whom I consider my babies...I lost passion. Had to recalibrate.
> 
> Anyway. Blah, blah. You're here to read. Thanks so much for being here, and as always, I hope you enjoy <3

Being back home in Ostwick was… _nice._ Max could scarcely believe it.

He and his elder brother Tobias led their party to Trevelyan manor nearly a fortnight ago, rescuing their father from an assassination attempt. Max had been gravely wounded in the assault, taking a blow meant for Jax, and Max knew he felt guilty about it, despite his gruff demeanor.

Jax had never thanked them, in so many words. Max doubted he ever would. Still, his actions spoke volumes. And if a mountain of guilt was the segue to which they could build a relationship –meet each other halfway—Max would take it. Even if that guilt _was_ misplaced.

Things would never be comfortable between them. Still, Jax was _trying_. Often taking the time to speak with Max outside of necessity. They’d talked strategy, over drinks and maps. Despite constantly being on his guard, the man was almost… _pleasant._ Max found himself enjoying his father's company, for the first time in recent memory.

Max was still on light duty, despite his wounds being nearly healed. He’d taken a blow to the gut –lost nearly half his blood volume, or so he’d been told, and his abdomen was still tender where the dagger struck flesh. Leliana had been sending along missives with her agents; things he needed to sign off on that couldn’t wait. It was about _all_ he could do, per medical restriction.

If Max never saw another sheaf of parchment, it would be too soon. He groaned, rubbing his temple with a thumb. With a careful stretch –lifting his arms still proved something of a challenge—he abandoned his desk and strode toward the open balcony doors. A bit of fresh air would do him good.

It was a clear, cloudless day. The sun was high in the sky –just past noon, he wagered –and he rested both arms on top of the railing, leaning his weight against it. He had always loved his view of their lands from up here.

A party was approaching the manor.

Max’s stomach tightened. His mother and her ilk were overdue coming home—she and his eldest brother had been thankfully absent for the assassination attempt. While he was glad they’d been safely away, Max wasn’t looking forward to the painfully awkward reunion he was about to have with them.

He squinted into the distance—was it wishful thinking, or was that a familiar pair of qunari horns, bobbing ever closer?

Max waited another heartbeat. Two. Then, he grinned.

He would know those broad shoulders anywhere.

Eagerly, Max left his quarters and took the stairs two at a time, throwing an idle wave to the guards and servants who acknowledged him as he passed. He made it through the double doors at the entryway just in time to greet his lover, ascending the marble staircase.

“Boss,” The Iron Bull acknowledged, grin tugging at his lips. He raised an arm in greeting.

“Bull,” Max answered, mock serious, with a playful, haughty tilt of his chin.

“You’re not nearly as dead as they’re saying,” Bull quipped, stopping a foot in front of Max, regarding him with an appraising eye.

Max snorted, his act, broken. He grinned, and the Bull opened his arms, wrapping them around Max as he stepped into his embrace.

“You didn't have to come all the way here. Solas and Vivienne say I can travel soon.” Max melted into Bull, overjoyed despite his words. He'd missed his lover more than he could say.

“Everybody was all freaked out, but _I_ knew you weren't gonna be taken out by a bunch of nobodies like that.” Bull pulled back far enough to scrutinize his face, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “Heard you got banged up. You don't look too bad, though. Little on the pale side.”

“I'm fine.” Max smiled, tugging Bull closer. “You should see the other guy.”

Bull raised an eyebrow, lips twisting into a smirk. “What, just _one?”_

“Six, if you must know. I didn't want to brag,” Max quipped.

His lover chuckled. “Kicking ass and taking names. That's my boy.”

Max reached up to cup his face, ignoring the ache in his side. He pulled him down, crushing their lips together in a kiss.

When they broke apart, Max sighed, resting his head on Bull's broad chest. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too, Kadan.”

Together, they walked back into the manor. Max caught a glimpse of Krem over Bull’s shoulder, corralling the Chargers, with the help of a very confused looking guard. He probably should have bothered to say _hello,_ but there’d be time for that later. Now, he had more important things to do. Getting reacquainted with the love of his life, for instance, who…

…who he had to introduce to his _father._

_Oh, Maker._

It was fine. This was _fine._ Max was a grown man, _and_ the Inquisitor. He’d never let himself be cowed by Jaxson before, and he wasn’t going to now, this new leaf they’d turned over be damned.

As it turned out, Max needn’t have bothered fretting. Jax was waiting for them both, standing ramrod straight in the doorway to his study by the staircase. He’d probably heard Max traipsing down the steps like a besotted maiden greeting her betrothed and come to investigate.

Whatever the reason, there his father was. Max wasn’t sure if he was relieved that fate had taken the choice out of his hands, or annoyed.

Plucking the pipe from his lips, Jax harumphed, stared Bull down –which was awkward, considering he had to crane his neck to do so –and gave Max an inscrutable look. Then, terrifyingly enough, he nodded to himself. Whether he’d discovered or confirmed something, Max couldn’t say, and was too afraid to speculate over. 

“Iron Bull, I presume,” Jax grumbled, tone neutral rather than hostile. Which was something, at least.

The Bull, to Max’s simultaneous delight and horror, laughed. “I can see the resemblance.”

Max resisted the urge to groan. “I hate you _so_ much,” he muttered, from the corner of his mouth.

“No, you don’t.”

Max sighed. “No. I don’t.”

“It’s the horns, isn’t it?” Bull replied, in answer to Jax. He gave him an easy smile. “That’s my name, feel free to wear it out.”

The corner of Jax’s lips twitched. He snorted. “Well, don’t just stand there like a couple of dolts.” He motioned them both inside with a tilt of his chin. “Enter.”

The pair did as they were told, Bull with a spring in his step—he was probably getting a kick out of this, the absolute _shit—_ Max, with his shoulders back and his head held high. If he was marching off toward imminent doom, he would do it precisely as he had every time—proudly.

Jaxson led them both through the balcony doors and toward a table by the railing. He set three glasses out, taking the stopper from a crystal decanter of brandy and pouring two fingers into each.

Bull plopped down in the chair across from Jax –one elbow propped on his knee, entirely at ease. Max followed with a great deal less enthusiasm and stood beside the chair. Jaw, set. Back, straight.

“Drink,” Jax set glasses in front of them both. “Maxwell, for Maker’s sake, sit _down._ Blood of Andraste, you’d think I was a blighted archdemon.”

Max complied, taking a breath.

He’d faced down Corypheus. Corypheus’s pet dragon. _Actual_ dragons. Demons, darkspawn, bandits, assassins. He could handle one _sodding_ conversation between his father and his suitor. What was he, _twelve?_

“So,” Jax eyed them over the rim of his goblet, taking a measured sip. “Word around these parts is, you’ve been bending my son over a basin. Tell me. What are your intentions with him?”

Max hid his face in his hands. “Oh my _God,_ oh my God…”

“You don’t fuck around. I like that,” Bull chuckled. He patted Max on the back, in what he supposed was equal parts amusement, and comfort. “Yup. It’s true. Sometimes basins, sometimes—”

“If you ever want to bend me over anything _again,_ you will not _finish_ that sentence, Bull. _So_ help me!”

Wisely, The Iron Bull fell silent.

“Oh, don’t be a _child,_ Maxwell. I was young once,” Jax scoffed, turning his attention back to Bull. Maxwell watched, mortified, one hand covering his face. The other, grasping desperately for the glass on the table. Brandy. Where the _hell_ was the brandy?

Jax regarded Bull, unblinking. “Answer the question.”

“Look, your Lordship,” Bull began, taking a drag from his own glass –carefully. The crystal was dwarfed in his giant palm. “I’ll be honest. Your opinion’s important to him. That much is obvious, and that’s why I’m here. If I can make sure it’s smooth sailing between you and me, he worries less. When he worries less, he’s happy _more._ I want him to be happy. For me, it’s that simple.”

Jax raised an eyebrow. Harumphed—approvingly? “Go on.”

“I take care of him; he takes care of me. He’s my Kadan. That’s how it works, with or without your approval, but without will upset him. That’s what I’m trying to avoid. You’ve upset him enough in the past. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Jax reddened—his eyes blazed with rage. Max squared his jaw, ready for a fight.

It never came. Instead, he watched his father take a steadying breath, and after a solid _minute_ of silence, in which Max quietly panicked, Jax spoke. Voice tight. “Kadan. What the bloody hell is that, some qunari—”

“My heart.” Bull looked Jax dead in the eye. “It means my heart.”

 _Max’s_ heart fluttered.

His father seemed to realize those words had weight. His face shuttered—that inscrutable expression Max never quite knew what to make of. Not… _soft._ Not really. But, less on guard. Less hostile.

Jaxson rubbed his chin. Looked Bull up and down. “I suppose you’ll do. But, make no mistake, Qunari. Do him wrong, and there will be no distance across which I will not _find_ you. Is that clear?”

Max wasn’t sure what to unpack first—the ‘ _I suppose you’ll do’_ or the fact that his father had just threatened bodily harm to a man who could kill him with a salad fork.

Mostly, he just felt lightheaded. He grasped clumsily for the decanter of brandy, but Bull beat him to it, pouring Max another measure, which he downed immediately.

“You all right over there, Boss?” Bull quipped, favoring Max with a shit-eating grin.

Max glared over at him, head still resting on his hand. “Oh, shut up.”

“I don’t know what you were so blighted worried about. I’m not _unreasonable,”_ Jax grumbled.

Max picked up his head, and glared at Jax, unabashed.

Jax bristled. “Don’t _look_ at me in that tone of voice, young man. Go on, get. I’ve business to attend. I will see you both in the dining hall later.” It wasn’t an invitation they could refuse.

Bull inclined his giant horned head. “Wouldn’t miss it. C’mon, you heard the man.” He took Max by the hand, lifting him to his feet. “Nice talking with you, Your Lordship.”

Jax grunted and waved them out.

Bull threaded their fingers together as they walked back into the foyer. “You know, I think that went well.”

“I did bleed to death. That must be it,” Max muttered, dazed. “I’m hilariously dead right now, aren’t I?”

“Does that mean I really _don’t_ get to bend you over any more basins, or…?”

Max let out a squeak that was equal parts mortification and laughter. “ _Fuck_ you.”

“Uh, yeah. That’s the idea. It doesn’t have to be a basin. I’m open to suggestions. Wanna do a little exploration?”

Max laughed, a touch hysterically. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

Bull pinched his ass. “Show me where your room is, and I’ll make it worth your while.”

Max huffed out a laugh and did the only thing he really _wanted_ to do.

He punched the son-of-a-bitch, then let him carry him up the stairs, where he _thoroughly_ made it up to Max.


End file.
